Jeremiah surveyed the three people in the private room, his gaze lingering momentarily on Charles before calmly withdrawing it. A few days prior, Charles's information had been on his desk; Jeremiah hadn't anticipated seeing him so soon in Clusia. Charles, in turn, was startled by Jeremiah's striking handsomeness, his grip on his fork loosening. 'So, Yvette's boyfriend is a young major general in Clusia? Holy shit!' he mused, momentarily speechless. He could only think, 'Yvette is amazing.'

Andrew regarded Jeremiah with a sense of grievance. From the moment Jeremiah entered, he'd glanced briefly at Charles before focusing entirely on Yvette, leaving Andrew, a handsome man himself, completely overshadowed. "Jeremiah, you finally made it!" Andrew announced, rising from his chair. With each step he took, the overpowering smell of canned herring intensified. Jeremiah recoiled. The odor was unbearable for him, a confirmed germaphobe. With a cold expression, he said, "Sit back down." Andrew instantly understood, his thoughts a lament: 'Oh no! My image is ruined by this herring smell!' He slumped back into his seat, muttering, "Alright, forget it. Whatever..."

Jeremiah moved to sit beside Yvette. She looked up as he settled beside her, her eyes clear and cool, her voice sweet. "Have you eaten yet?" Jeremiah's usually deep and reserved eyes sparkled with tenderness as he replied, "Not yet. I just finished handling some matters at the military district before coming here."

Since beginning her relationship with Jeremiah, Yvette had noticed his erratic eating habits and discerning palate. While he'd accompany her in sampling everything she enjoyed, he rarely ate more than a few bites. She piled various pieces of steak onto his plate until it overflowed. Jeremiah smiled inwardly, 'So much food! Yvette must really love me.' Charles thought, 'Yvette is so biased. At least leave me a couple of pieces!' Andrew was aghast. 'My steak? I'd been eyeing it for five minutes, and now it's gone! How heartless!'

Setting down her fork, Yvette calmly introduced Charles: "This is Charles Jameson, my apprentice." Andrew dropped his fork with a clatter. The man he'd long suspected was Yvette's apprentice. He stared, back and forth between Charles and Yvette. 'Charles looks nearly thirty, while Yvette is just over twenty. Is she really his mentor? He seems more suited to be the teacher,' he pondered. His conclusion: 'Yvette isn't normal. I can't treat her normally anymore.' Reflecting on his busy, ill-smelling morning, he felt pathetic.

Charles maintained a calm, controlled demeanor, years in the underworld having taught him to mask his true nature. Nodding at Jeremiah, he said earnestly, "Hello, Lady Boss, I'm Charles." In Charles's estimation, Yvette was clearly in charge, rendering Jeremiah's rank irrelevant.

Andrew, mid-bite, sprayed food across the floor, staring at Charles in disbelief. 'He's joking with Jeremiah! That's so bold! He called Mr. Chavez "Lady Boss"! This is insane! I have to share this!' He furtively pulled out his phone, then hesitated. The potential repercussions chilled him. 'I'm not as brave as Charles. Better play it safe.' He texted Samantha: [Samantha, you won't believe this. Someone just called Mr. Chavez "Lady Boss." It's hilarious!]

Samantha's reply was swift and cold: [Get lost. If you want to die, don't drag me into it. Do you think you can joke about Mr. Chavez?] Andrew pursed his lips. 'Yep, definitely my sister. Abandoned me at the first sign of trouble.'

Jeremiah's fingers twitched at Charles's words, his gaze sharp and icy. The palpable killing intent froze Charles. 'What a terrifying aura,' he thought. Yvette watched with amusement. Charles's remark was unexpected, undoubtedly deliberate. The murderous aura vanished as quickly as it appeared. Jeremiah's head tilted, his eyes half-closed in a languid way. His voice softened, tinged with melancholy. "Never thought I'd see the day I'd be called 'Lady Boss.' It's...nice."

Andrew's phone slipped from his hand as he heard Jeremiah's words. 'What the hell? Is he acting? What's with this delicate routine?' Jeremiah's vulnerability sent goosebumps down his spine. This was the iron-blooded warlord who'd made his name in Betrico at eighteen, now playing coy. Charles, unprepared for Jeremiah's acceptance, felt defeated.

Yvette crossed her legs, her expression impassive. She was accustomed to Jeremiah's playful nature. A subtle smile touched her lips. "Having a playful boyfriend is nice. Since he loves to act, I shouldn't ruin his fun," she mused. Glancing at the uncomfortable Charles, she said softly, "This is Jeremiah Chavez. Just call him Mr. Chavez."

Charles could only nod, obeying her unspoken command. Jeremiah gave Charles a half-smile, understanding Yvette's preference for a gentler approach. He nodded slightly, introducing himself succinctly: "Hello, I am Jeremiah Chavez."

Andrew observed, 'Mr. Chavez is truly cunning!' He was surprised by Charles's obedience to Yvette, deducing she must be a strict teacher. He mentally classified Charles as an artist, given Yvette's status as the internationally acclaimed painter, Cyanbird. The misunderstanding cleared, Andrew felt no animosity towards Charles; his audacity was proof of his strength and worthiness of friendship.

Curious, Andrew asked, "Charles, how much do you typically charge per piece?" Andrew meant a painting; Charles interpreted it differently. He wasn't concerned; he wasn't involved in any killings in Clusia, a sanctuary amidst global chaos.